


NOTICE

by Vodka112



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Original Character Death(s), Very short drabbles put together like patchwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/pseuds/Vodka112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio’s brother shouldn’t have died. He shouldn’t have to go out that night. Romano shouldn’t have been drinking. He shouldn’t have been driving…</p>
            </blockquote>





	NOTICE

**Author's Note:**

> Fic gift to [resha04 on LJ](http://resha04.livejournal.com/)
> 
> I based this fic on a pivot scene in the Japanese drama SIGN. If you have the time to watch it, please do. Also, according to the prompt, this should be the first time Antonio meets Romano. I am not following those because I think the story would have more impact this way. I also used Portugal as a representation of the whole family. (I can’t kill off characters in stories. OTL.) I hope resha04 doesn’t mind. (;_;)

He clenched and unclenched his hands. Today was the trial of his brother’s murderer. He sat on the bench and tried to clear his head. There he was, dressed in slacks and groomed for the show. The murderer looked at him and turned his gaze away.

Traitor.

He saw his brother’s body on a metal slab in the middle of the room. Stiff and very dead.

Traitor.

He has had enough of these trials. They all just dance around the truth. This man, this child they say, killed his brother. That was the only truth he needed.

 

Feliciano tried to stop him. He really tried. He knew he was crying. He couldn’t help it. He rushed to his brother and leaned down. He examined the bruise blooming on the side of his brother’s face. He promised to come back and ran out towards the bathroom. His grandfather didn’t try to stop him but he heard his brother’s scared shriek. When he came back, his brother sported another bruise on his arm.

He tried to stop his tears but he couldn’t. As the stomping noises fade in the hallway, he promised himself to help his brother, no matter what grandpa would think.

No matter what their grandfather would think.

 

Francis skillfully tossed two empty bottles of some beverage into the air. Instead of impressing his audience, he earned their whole hearted laughter at his ugly (open mouthed) posture. Antonio tossed another bottle at his face. He caught that bottle and added it to his other toys. He ended the show with a flourish and a slightly tipsy bow. None of his audience members minded the tipsiness, being slightly impaired themselves, except for the two minors who were content with giggling along.

He attempted to seat himself right next to Arthur but the arsehole shoved his whole body against the edge of the sofa to make way for Afonso. He watched as Arthur trailed one finger to Afonso’s elbow. The birthday celebrant shivered a bit before sitting down next to the Briton. Francis was surprised.

“You owe me fifty bucks! Pay up!” Gilbert whispered in his ear. Francis frowned and dug in his pockets for his wallet, pulled out a fifty and passed it to the smug German.

“It’s so nice doing business with you Francis,” his albino friend gloated more.

“Oh, bother somebody else,” he growled.

“I would if I could. But there’s not much booze left,” Gilbert pouted.

Heracles and Afonso were engaged in an animated conversation. Antonio was cockblocking the two lovebirds in the corner. Francis wasn’t sure if he was doing that on purpose. Arthur abruptly stood up and offered to buy more beer. Afonso followed him and pulled him back down to the sofa. Antonio challenged his brother to prove his “legality” to buy booze outside in the middle of the night, despite the fact that Afonso had always bought alcohol by himself since turning nineteen. Afonso tripped going to the door but laughed and sent them back to their cushions and chairs.

He watched Arthur following Afonso with his gaze. Antonio deliberately shoved his face up to the Briton and challenged him to a game of arm-wrestling.

The game went on for so long Sadiq had to come in between the two and declare a tie. That was when they wondered how long Afonso took to buy beer from across the street, when the small shopping center was practically next door to the house. They made bets about how long it would take Afonso to come back.

They waited and waited till all the snickering died out. Sobered and scared, they clung to each other’s optimistic views and literally had to restrain both Arthur and Antonio from going out. The telephone rang…

 

Romano hated his life. Romano hated everything in his life. Romano hated everything in his life except his little brother.

Perfect little Feliciano.

Feliciano never had top marks in his academics but his teachers have sent him all over the country to compete for art contests. He was invited to study in a prestigious art university with a full ride scholarship. He smiled at people and helped old ladies cross the street. He would never hurt a cat, a dog, a fly or any animal for that matter. He was just sweet little Feliciano.

But most of all, he doesn’t drink.

You see, Feliciano was lucky. He was a fucking lucky bastard. He got the lucky end of the genetic stick and came out clean. He came out perfect while Romano…

Romano blames his grandfather for marrying a witch who was in love with the bottle. Romano blames his father for getting that genetic flaw as well.

Romano was addicted by the time he was sixteen.

In his defense, they were stuck living with their father till he was fifteen. The old man hit the bucket and suddenly their grandfather showed up. Told them they could stay with him. That they were welcome to be with him and that he would provide for whatever it was that they’d need. Right then, he caught his grandfather’s eye and a hidden promise to “fix him.”

Romano was never fixed. How could you begin to fix a broken human?

Oh but he tried. Sent him to classes. Gave him positive feedback. But when he gets a red score on the sheet, Romano himself climbs up the pantry and opens the secret compartment and downs half of the bottle. That was a skill he learned when his father tried drowning him with alcohol when he was five.

And promises and compromises and “I will never do it again” or “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Romano would have taken a beating. He had a lot of experience with that. But the old man, that grandpa wont…

Sometimes, Romano wakes up from a dream where they were still with his father. Those dreams he hated the most. Those dreams he always got right after a failed exam or a low grade. That was the dream he wanted to sleep away. If he could just forget… If he could just forget one more time...

 

“Romano, you should try to come.”  
“I don’t want to. Go away you bastard.”  
“That’s not very nice. Come on. My friends will be there. Feli will be there.”  
“And just because my brother is there doesn’t mean I have to be!”  
“It’s my brother's birthday. Birthdays only come once.”  
“I don’t care. I’m not coming.”

 

He really wondered how he was even alive. He was doing community service in a local library every weekend. He went to the psychiatrist every Wednesday evening. His brother would be transferring to university now instead of later because his grandfather would be busy paying for the fines. They left their apartment and moved to a smaller one closer to their school. His grandfather was working extra hours tutoring students in Latin. He quit school to attend alcoholism “rehabilitation” seminars. He has a bracelet on his ankle and it fucking hurts during winter.

But he was with his family. Strangers as they were to each other, he was with his family. He couldn’t say the same to Antonio.

 

The first thing he did was punch his face. Really punch his face. The kid popped a lip and broke his nose and teeth. Antonio wasn’t satisfied. He hurled words, useless but oh so gratifying words, at Romano. The kid had the audacity to look shocked and betrayed.

Traitor. He had no right! Antonio was very clear on not letting his brother’s murderer anywhere near the funeral gathering. He wasn’t his Romano anymore.

 

“I don’t really care for parties.”  
“You need friends Romano.”  
“Are you here just to shove that to my face?”  
“Shove what?”  
“That you have friends. That I don’t.”  
“No… I just thought-… I just thought maybe you’ll stop drinking if you have friends to, you know, hold you back or something. Spend time with.”  
“You are stupid.”  
“Sorry?”  
“You can’t fix me.”

 

He remembers. Please pick Feli up. He doesn't know how to go home. He doesn't have a car. He didn't remember there being something like, Careful of the deer at night. Actually be careful of the drunken people or maybe something like: FUCKING SWERVE! BRAKE! CALL THE AMBULANCE!

Don't you dare leave.

He did them all. Why did it have to be Afonso? Why? He shouldn’t feel content because of this! He had no right to be happy! He had no right to freedom! He had no right to heal himself!

Why the fuck was he getting treated? Why the fuck didn’t they let him die?!

Where the fuck was the alcohol in this house?!

 

It was his birthday party. His twenty-first actually. He invited his friends over and his idiot of a little brother invited his too. It was fun. It was noisy. The older ones brought booze. Lots of booze. He found out a little later that he was actually happy about the proof of the alcoholic drinks. By 9:45, a few hours into the party, the drinks were gone. Eager to please his quite funny and silly guests, he takes it upon himself to buy a couple of bottles more. He had just had his twenty-first birthday! He can actually buy drinks now and go to the bar or a club and drive his own car with his new license… He was a fucking free spirit!

So he trudged on, his world swayed and danced. He felt the mocking stares of passing people. Fuck them. Tonight was his birthday.

He knew he should have stayed at home. He should have brought somebody. He should have brought his brother.

A blinding flash of light and before he knew it, his body was floating and spinning. There was something hurting on the back of his head, the side of his face and his left knee. He couldn’t breathe.

During those last moments, he wished he brought somebody along with him. He wished he brought his brother.


End file.
